Never Say Goodbye
by Lady Feylene
Summary: Haunted by guilt and grief, Remus spends a restless night coming to terms with recent events. Slash. (BOOK FIVE SPOILERS)


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Disclaimer: None of these characters belong to me. I am making no money off of this. They belong to JK Rowling and respective affiliates.

Warning: Rated R for nudity and language. There are some mild hints of slash. 

Pairing: Sirius/Remus

Spoilers: Major Order of the Phoenix Spoilers.

Summary: Haunted by grief and guilt, Remus Lupin spends a restless night coming to grips with Sirius' death.

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Never Say Goodbye

Remus sighed, sinking into his bed heavily. He heard it creak; felt the mattress sagging under his weight. His mind took note of these things with a sort of detached precision. It had been, to put it mildly, a rough few days. He could feel a mild headache pulsing behind his eyes, and his stomach was making *some* sort of discontent known. But he ignored it in favor a numb fog.

Sirius' death was still sinking in. It had happened so quickly, and there had been no time for any reaction. Harry and the others were the main concern. And afterwards, everything had been such a blur…

But now he was alone, and the house was quiet, and Remus was alone with his thoughts. And his grief. 

//I just want to sleep.// He pulled off his shoes, and scrubbed his hands over his face. He felt tired and worn out, and there was an emptiness inside of him that he thought he was long rid of. He had felt it before, when he thought he had lost his three closest friends in one horrific blow. And then, against all odds, Sirius had been delivered back to him. For two blessed years, Sirius had come back to him.

And now he was gone yet again. And this time, there was no hope of a last minute reprieve.

Remus forced himself to stand up, and he shrugged off his robes, letting them fall to the floor. He didn't care much if they got dirty. It didn't matter. He hardly had the strength to finish undressing. He shrugged off his jumper, sighing as it got stuck somewhere around his shoulders. 

He fought a brief battle with it, before it joined his robes on the floor. He didn't have the strength to wage war against his undershirt, so he went after his pants. They proved to be a rather cowardly opponent, collapsing in a heap almost immediately. Kicking them aside, Remus slipped into the bed.

Sleep was a long time coming. He closed his eyes, and all he could see was those horrific last moments, when he felt his heart lodge itself in his throat, and then nothing. He couldn't banish it, regardless of how hard he tried. 

An hour passed, and Remus tossed and turned, tangling himself in the blankets and working himself into a sweat. He got up, and opened the bedroom window. The cool night air soothed his damp skin a bit. He just wanted to sleep, and the pleasing void it brought with it.

Finally deciding it was too hot to sleep in even something so light as an undershirt and boxers, Remus finished undressing. He pulled the damp undershirt away from his back, and up over his head. He grimaced as the sticky material clung to the skin of his back before releasing, feeling a bit better with it off. He slipped out of his boxers, collapsing back onto the bed-over the thin sheets. The room was rapidly cooling, thanks to the now open window, but Remus himself was still quite flushed.

Sleep came now. Remus drifted in and out of a light slumber, haunted by dreams that he couldn't quite grasp. Images assaulted his unconscious, sensations and emotions that brought him quickly back to the waking world. He had felt…a presence, almost, as he drifted off. He sat up, senses alert. But whatever he had felt was gone now. All that was left was a strange sense of foreboding, a slight tingling along his spine.

He couldn't shake it. He wrapped his arms around his chest, rubbing his bare forearms. He had felt as if someone was in the room with him, but now it was clear he was quite alone. Even though the corners of the room were darkened, his lycanthropic senses would have told him if there was someone else in his room. But still…he stood, creeping slowly about the room, examining every crevice. He took his wand up, bringing light into every dark space in his bedroom. Nothing. 

//You're getting paranoid, Moony.// He chided himself, running a hand through his hair before laying back down on his bed. But in another moment he was up to close the window. The room was *much* too cold now. He considered pulling something on, but at this point that would take too much effort. So far, he was *not* having a good night.

//I should have taken that potion Severus offered.// It had been a touching and unexpected gesture. But Remus had declined, and was now suffering. He couldn't sleep. The dreams-if they even had been dreams-had disturbed him mildly. He could hardly remember them, but there was a vague sense of discontent left from them. And certainly they had to have been bad, to have stolen his much needed sleep from him.

//This is ridiculous.// He was *not* a man prone to jumping at shadows and fancies. //I just need to clear my head.// He stood up yet *again*, and fumbled in the closet for a bathrobe of some sorts. Just something to wrap around himself for the short trip down the hall to the lavatory.

The house was silent as a crypt. The thought made him shiver, and he hurried down the darkened corridor to the lavatory, closing the door behind him with an audible click. Everything sounded amplified in the dark house. Remus winced, and was amazed at how loudly his own heart was beating.

//What is wrong with you?// He asked himself, hanging his bathrobe up on the door. He lit the lamps on the wall with a muttered word, and took a good look at himself in the mirror. He wasn't exactly pleased with what he saw.

//You need to sleep.// And that was the purpose of this little journey to the loo. To ease his obviously troubled mind, and go back to bed. It was preposterously late, he could see bags forming under his eyes, the gray was winning the territory scuffle over his hair, and he was too thin. He ran a hand over his ribcage, painfully aware of how easily he could feel the bones under his skin. He stepped back, eyeing his body critically. 

//You've been in far better shape.// He admitted. His skin was slightly ashen, his face a bit more weathered. His shoulders were slightly bowed, as though he was carrying a weight on them. He straightened himself, squaring them almost defiantly at his mirror image. There was a dull remnant of muscle clinging to his biceps and forearms, but he doubted it would be there long. 

His chest was the same, what musculature he had built up rapidly fading. He decided his waist would be the envy of any young female model, and his hips were too jutting. The bones stuck out prominently, and he winced as he ran his hand over the hard arch of his pelvis. He knew he'd never been in *truly* good shape, but still…

//You can't do this to yourself.// He turned away from the mirror, and turned on the water in the shower. He decided a cold shower would be best. It would clear his head. And he was uncomfortable warm again. //Maybe I'm sick…// He supposed he could be having hot and cold flashes, rather then be affected by the weather. He hadn't been taking care of himself at all, he supposed he could have caught something…

Which made a cold shower a bad idea, but he didn't care. He slipped into the cold stream, gritting his teeth as his skin tightened in response. But a small bit of mild discomfort was much better then being sticky and uncomfortable, and full of strange ideas.

He leaned his head against the tiled wall of the shower, and let the cold water pound over his head and cascade over his back. It *did* feel good. He let out a small sigh, rolling his shoulders under the spray. He was half tempted to see if he could fall asleep that way. Maybe he'd get lucky and drown…

//Knock it off.// He found himself leaning back against the wall, and sliding down it to sit in the water-which was getting decidedly colder as he sat there. But the tile was cold and welcome under his back and buttocks, and the cold water *was* washing away that peculiar sense of…well, Remus wasn't sure what it had been.

Not *quite* dread. He had been disturbed, certainly, but not frightened. Just…upset, maybe? Looking back on it now, it was hard to decipher. Whatever it had been, it was gone. And no one had been in his room, save his own personal ghosts.

//Enough.// He was going to numb vital parts if he stayed in the shower much longer. He stood, his joints protesting loudly. They were cold and comfortable, and didn't want to stand up and take his weight. He flicked off the faucet, and stepped out of the stall. He didn't bother drying off, he just draped the bathrobe around himself haphazardly and forced his weary feet to carry him the short distance to his bedroom. There the bathrobe joined the rest of his fallen clothing, and he threw himself for what he hoped was the *last* time into his bed.

The shower, it seemed, had helped. Remus found sleep easily again, and this time something much deeper then what he had found before.

But the dreams came. Memories, really. A small part of his mind was very much *aware* during his dream state. Memories flew by too fast to be catalogued, and when they were done Remus found himself standing in what was-for all he could tell- a library. There were shelves upon shelves of books, and a fire roaring cheerfully in it's rather familiar home of stone and mahogany. Two chairs stood before the fire, red leather, high backed and winged. The corners of the library were dark, and put Remus in mind of his room at Grimmauld Place. And here, as in his room, was that feeling of presence.

//You daft git…// He chided himself mentally. The presence he felt was hardly malevolent. In was in fact familiar and rather comforting.

Though Remus was still attempting to figure out how he could be so aware in such an odd dream. He could smell the fire clearly, and he could feel the rug under his bare feet. He glanced down, and was confused to find himself blushing upon discovering his unclothed state.

//You've had *these* dreams before.// He told himself with a small sigh. //Any minute, you're going to realize you're here to give a speech, and you're naked, and it's horribly embarrassing…but *why* I'm having this dream is a bit of a mystery…//

"You always were one to overanalyze Moony. Nice outfit, by the way."

Remus jumped a bit, gasping as he turned. His eyes widened, and he felt his heart in his throat.

"Sirius?" He breathed the name. *Obviously* the man who had stepped out of the shadows was Sirius, but hardly the drained and worn man he remembered. This was Sirius in a prime he had never reached, tall and lean and fit. And fully clothed.

"Look surprised to see me." Sirius said, tossing himself down into one of the chairs, sitting sideways with his legs propped up on the arms.

"You're going to ruin the leather…" Remus said, weakly. He was shaken, and visibly so. He swallowed hard, forcing his muscles to work around the lump in his throat. This was the ot bizarre dream he had ever had…

"You've got mad." Sirius said. "Sit down. And would you cover yourself up for Merlin's sake, you're not as pretty as usual when you're cold."

In a bit of a daze, Remus snatched up a book, sitting down and trying to make himself decent. 

He opened the book, draping it over his lap and steadily avoiding Sirius. He couldn't quite think. What was going on? He *was* dreaming, wasn't he?

"You look like shit, Moony." Sirius said, frowning. Remus looked up, and hated the way the lines of his face changed when he turned his lips down.

"It's….been a rough few days." Remus forced himself to say.

"I know. My fault to, sorry about that." A sheepish grin that Remus was all too familiar with followed.

"It's…it's hardly your fault." Remus tried a very weak smile. He was sitting-naked-in some nonexistent library carrying on a conversation with his dead best friend. Maybe he shouldn't have gone to bed after all…

"Yes it is." Sirius said, nodding and crossing his ankles. Remus said nothing, his eyes trailing over Sirius' thick black hair, his tanned skin, casual shirt and pants that clung to his well developed calves… "I fucked up, got too cocky, and I paid for it." 

"You look rather well." Remus said, dryly. This was a bit too much for him. "For being dead and all."

"Amazing, isn't it?" Sirius folded his hands behind his head. 

"Quite."

The small part of his mind that was *not* very aware was working overtime. This dream was born out of some form of guilt at not being able to either say his goodbyes, or to save Sirius. His subconscious understood that his sudden lack of self preservation was due to these feelings of guilt, and was attempting to put everything right…

"You're a million miles away, Moony." Sirius said, softly. "We don't have long okay, so stay with me."

"What are you talking about?" Remus asked. His rational mind would not allow him to believe this was anything other then a dream. But…stranger things had happened, surely!

"I'm not going to go into a long, drawn out explanation, okay?" Sirius said, swinging his legs off of the arm of the chair and sitting forward eagerly. "I just…I just wanted you to be able to, I dunno. Closure or whatever."

"To say goodbye?" Remus corrected, quietly.

"Nah." Sirius shook his head. "Come on…it's never really *goodbye*. We'll see each other again, but hopefully not for a damn long time."

"Hopefully." Remus agreed, nodding. This *hurt*. It shouldn't. He was being given what few people ever had, he imagined. He should be treasuring it, cherishing it…

"Take care of yourself, huh?" Sirius said, reaching out and brushing his fingers lightly over Remus' cheek. "You're basically the last of us. You've got to make a good impression…"

"It's a bit difficult, Sirius." Remus said, laying his hand over Sirius'. His flesh *burned* where their skin touched, and Sirius pulled away.

"Don't touch me too much…" He warned, shaking his head. "I wish it could be different but…"

"It's all right." Remus nodded. He wanted to touch Sirius, to hold him, to weep in his arms even, but he would be content with this.

"So you take it easy, and don't worry about me. I may be dead, but I'm fine."

'I'll…take your word for it." Remus said, chuckling through the tightness in his throat at the sheer oddity of the statement.

"You better. I'm fine, and I love you, and I miss you." Sirius said, raking his hair out of his eyes. 

"And if I had the time, and I could touch you, trust me I'd prove it to you. But you're just going to have to live with the memories."

"I'll do my best." Remus said, with a slight smile. He was feeling more at ease. And Merlin, but what a better parting of ways then…

"You'd better. And you had *better* do like I said, and take care of yourself. I'm going to be watching you." Sirius admonished, and Remus found himself blushing, crying and laughing all at the same time.

"Hey, calm down." Another light brushing of fingers against his cheek, faintly tingling.

"I'm sorry…" Remus swallowed hard, risking the lightest of kisses against Sirius' palm.

"I know. It's tough. Goodbye's aren't easy…"

"But this isn't goodbye, remember?" Remus said, gently.

"Nope. Just…"

"Goodnight?" The werewolf offered, rolling his eyes a bit at his wording.

"Yeah, that works." Sirius said, and Remus shook his head. All literary significance was lost on the other man. But that was how it had always been, and always should be. "But…it's time to say goodnight."

"So soon?" But Sirius had said there was little time.

"I'm sorry Moony, I really am. I…I didn't mean for it to happen. I didn't mean to leave you. Or Harry…"

"I know." They were both getting choked up now. Remus wanted to hold him, so badly it hurt. It burnt him inside as much as the touch of his hand had burnt him outside.

"I love you Moony." Sirius whispered, leaning forward to brush his lips against Remus', but no tickle of breath accompanied his words.

"I love you…" Remus murmured, feeling the strangest sensation of heat along his body as the darkened corners of the room seemed to grow, swallowing the room and it's occupants…

***

Remus sat up in bed with a start. There was the strangest feeling of a presence in his room, and his body was slick with sweat. He swallowed hard, a lump in his throat. His heart was beating loudly in his chest, and he pressed his hand over it as though to slow it. The window was closed, and the room was stifling-he felt as though he would suffocate in hot air.

Steadying himself, he rose to open the window and let the cold night air soothe his skin. He looked about the room, methodically searching for any sign that the 'dream' he'd experienced had been real. 

Against the far wall, a fire was roaring cheerfully in it's rather familiar home of stone and mahogany.

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Fin


End file.
